


The Real Deal

by smellyleaf



Series: Smellyleaf's Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Swimming RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Prompt Fill, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smellyleaf/pseuds/smellyleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the anon prompt: Michael goes to a family holiday and pretends Reezy is his gf not his bf +++bonus points for secret phonecalls</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Deal

After the food has been cleared away and the mothers are in the house talking about Thanksgivings-past, Michael Phelps and his cousins sneak down to the edge of the lake to smoke a blunt.

"Hold it down," Jack says, lighting it down near his hip, "Whatever you do, don't let Aunt Abby see it."

The main subject of the conversation is women, and as the blunt circles around so do their stories. Jack has just finished describing some Italian broad back home in New Mexico. She has massive tits, and he even goes so far as to whip his Galaxy out and show them all pictures. The other guys crowd around and make appreciative comments.

Michael hangs back and smokes, until finally the questions come his way.

"Who you seein' now, man?" Jack asks him, "Know you gotta be seein' somebody. Where's she from?"

"Florida," Michael replies, and the comment is met with nods of approval. Florida inhabitants, much like California, are mostly considered to be tan and fit as a general. He holds his hands out in front of him, cupped like he's holding someone's hips, and lets the blunt hang out his lip, "GREAT ass. I mean, first class booty."

More nods of approval.

"You hit it yet?" His other cousin, Marcus, chimes in.

"Oh yeah. I'm gettin' it pretty regular." Michael nods and the boys go up in a chorus of cheers and laughter, elbowing each other.

"Serious, huh? Mikey got hooked!" Jack laughs, "So, who's the piece on the side? Another pagaent queen? Porn star? Stripper?"

Michael sucks on his bottom lip, always nervous as the center of attention, and scuffs his sneakers in the damp grass, "....Naw. Nothing like that. Just the one."

Jack fixes him with quite a serious look, "Spill."

Michael grins to himself , but after all the dirty shit the others have dished out, he's not really feeling too embarrassed, "I'm stuck on stupid with this one, dude. First time I seen 'em was just like, a glance, I wasn't really trippin' about it, ya know? So there I am, I'm changing out after warm down, and boom. Swimsuit."

Jack grins, "Lucky bastard. I should have been a swimmer."

"I mean, damn," Michael nods, "The ass really got me fucked up right from the start, I should've seen it coming. But I thought I had this shit in the bag, so I tried to play it casual at first. Thought I could just hit it a few times and get it out my system, you know?" He shakes his head, and one of the guys makes a sound like a scoreboard at the end of a basketball game, and everyone laughs.

"Now I'm stuck, man. All the signs are there, even Ma noticed 'em. I've got to get her off the accounts, she's all up my ass. I just dropped about seven grand on a pair of fucking shoes, then had to lie like that shit was for me when she saw the receipt."

Everyone laughs again, and Marcus says, "How'd that even work? You been wearing holes in your shit since you were five."

"I know, I know!" Michael chuckles and takes the blunt in rotation again, puffing on it thoughtfully, "You know I was wasted for our first kiss? Tell me that's not fucked up."

"That ain't right, man," Jack snorts.

"I guess I just don't have your brass balls," Michael smiles, "I was nervous as fuck. I thought for sure it was gonna be a HELL NO. I mean, we're talking waaay out of my league here. At least, I thought so."

"Fuck that high-maintence shit," His second cousin Dave grunts, "Fuck buying a seven thousand dollar pair of shoes just 'cuz the bitch is pretty."

Michael shrugs, "Whatever, that's my number one fan. If the check won't bounce, I'll sign it. Get this though," He laughs, "The other day we're sitting around the apartment playing Call of Duty-"

"Your bitch plays Call of Duty?" Jack snaps, "Dammit man! Some guys get all the luck!"

Michael just smiles, "Anyway, so we're playing on the couch, we ain't even dressed, I'm talking butt naked. And a text comes through and she pauses the game cuz she's on these Gucci alert emails and they're having a fucking sale. Well the place is right down the fucking road, so I tried to be like, go there and come back. Cuz she said she just needed a belt."

All the guys exchange knowing looks.

"Four hours later," Michael starts, and they all bust out laughing, "Four hours later, I'm still sitting on the fucking couch with my thumb up my ass and she shows up with one bag and it's just the belt and she gets all pissed at me, says I'm making herlazy and out of shape and nothing looks right." He shakes his head, grinning, "So I was like, babe, round is a shape."

Everyone laughs again and Jack shakes his head, tossing the roach out into the lake, "You're such a fucking asshole." They all start back up the hill again, and he hangs towards the back with Michael long enough to say, "Call of Duty, though? Sounds like you got a keeper."

Michael smiles, "Yeah, I know." At that exact moment, his phone chimes and Jack smiles knowingly as Michael drops back to answer it.

"Red alert! Crisis!" Ryan Lochte screams into the phone, "Are you there? Hello?!"

"I'm here, what the fuck is the crisis?" Michael asks, trying not to laugh.

"I thought I packed my red shirt in the louis bag and my red shoes in the duffel and now I have a fucking purple polo in my hand and red fucking clown shoes on my feet and I need you to open your trunk and tell me if the other louis is still sitting in there or if I'm fucking losing it!"

"It was still there. I overnight shipped it like, two days ago, in Devon's name. He texted this morning and said it's in his closet."

Ryan shrieks in glee, and Michael has to hold the phone at a distance because it hurts his ear, "You're fucking flawless sometimes, you know that!?" There's a lot of rustling and shuffling in the background as Ryan pulls the bag out, "Thank fucking God because all my underwear is in here and my nuts have fucking rugburn from these jeans, I swear." Things start to dawn on him, "Wait, you texted Devon and not me? Were you just waiting on me to freak out and call?"

"Yeah because I need to confront your theiving ass and I know you'll ignore the texts. You stole my charger, Hamburgler."

"I needed it!" There's tons of background noise, it sounds like he's putting the phone through a paper shredder, "Devon was snapchatting me pictures of him with a duck bill, it was great."

"Thief." Michael smiles fondly, "What the fuck is that noise?"

"I'm trying to make an Oreo milkshake but I think I should have crushed the cookies first, the blender's smoking," The tearing sound stops, "When the fuck are you coming this way? Mom is super fucking excited about you being here, she's cooking chicken for you so you don't have to eat turkey twice in one week."

"I'm almost done here, we're just fucking off waiting for Grandma Lucy to leave and then I'm going to the airport. You owe me big time for flying twice."

"Whatever, you're the one who owes me."

"How come?"

"I dunno, but I'll think of something before you get here." More rustling in the background, "Fuck, I need a spoon..."

"They're all in the dishwasher, I loaded it before I left." He's near the house now, and everyone is gathering around his oldest grandmother's car to say goodbye, "Lemme let you go, I have to be polite and stuff and you can go eat your milkshake. I'll call you as soon as I get to airport and again when I land, okay?"

"You better not forget," Ryan says around what must be a mouth of cold cookies.

"I won't. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

They hang up and Michael says goodbye to his grandmother and then everyone waves as the aunt that drove her backs the car out and turns off down the road. He says his other goodbyes, kisses his mother and makes sure to fuck up both his sisters' hairstyles. Finally he's able to escape, and he practically runs to the car. Marcus is parked nearby, and when he sees Michael he rolls his window down for one last question.

"How'd you do it, man? How'd someone like you manage to settle down?" He grins, probably remembering weekends in Vegas, Spring Break in the gulf, summertime on the west coast....

Michael thinks about that too, but not for long, and then he smiles, "I guess... I found somebody who's different from the rest. My best friend. He's the real deal."

Marcus doesn't notice the slip, or if he does, Michael is already gone by then.


End file.
